Keep Me Hanging On
by animephoenix
Summary: Tiger Arson escaped the chaos of Boston with barely his life, though not sure if really deserved it after killing his family. In the dying world, there isn't much left, but he manages to find hope in three boys, who he picks up on his journey down south to find a safe haven. Together Tiger, Jack, Lucas and Red will have to learn that survival is the only thing left. Daryl/OC Slash.
1. Arson

Warnings: Contains OC's, death, gore, horror, sexual implications, slash, guy/guy, and slight AU's because the storyline might change at moments because of OC's.

* * *

Tiger Arson was not like normal 19 year old's. Born to some hippy parents, with 5 siblings, it might seem somewhat average. But he was detached, always had been. He knew there was a problem when one night he realized he wasn't entirely bothered with the thought of his family's death, at least, not as much as a normal reaction. Tiger was normal looking on the outside, black hair, blue-green eyes, faded freckles across his nose. But inside, was anything but normal. He was far to calculating, far to uncaring. He didn't worry. His motivation was far below average, he could be a genius, be anything he wanted, but he shrugged it off. Nothing really important anyway.

It was perhaps this detachment that made it easier for him to kill his family.

His father was the first one.

Tiger woke to screams, thuds, and sounds of struggle. He at first thought it was a burglar, and felt a prickle of misplaced excitement. He'd always wondered what it would be like to be robbed. Would he take out the offender? Or be beaten and left to die? Pulling back the covers, he slid out of his bed silently, making his way to the bedroom door. Tiger froze, his body shivering when he heard it, the moan. It was guttural, a low, horrifying sound that made fear batter at the cages of Tiger's mind. Swallowing, he took a step back from the door, for the first time in perhaps his entire life, he was worried. Whatever was on the other side of that door, making those noises, causing those screams, was not a burglar.

He bumped into his dresser, almost jumping a foot in the air. Breathing out a shaky sigh, his hand scrabbled for the bat leaning up against it. Gripping it tightly, he made his way back to his door. His body was racked with shivers of fear, something he couldn't recall ever feeling before. The screams of his family burned his ears, making his breaths come out in harsher heaves. Shakily he turned the doorknob and pulled it open.

Blood.

It coated the floors, dark red, brownish..._black._

He swallowed, realizing, for the first time. That something was going to die. Him. It. His family. Whatever.

Something was going to die, if that blood didn't mean anything. He stepped out, flinching as he walked to the living room, feet squishing in the sticky, warm blood. The continues sounds of screams and thuds and _something being eaten _filled his ears.

Tiger rounded the corner. The image before him was one that would be imprinted in his mind for the rest of his life. There was so much blood, splattered across the walls and the floor and the furniture. In the middle of it all was his father, hunched over and _eating his mother._ Tiger's sister was lying in the corner, along with 2 of his brothers, bloody and unmoving. His other 2 sisters were screaming, beating at his father, who lashed out and crawled towards them, leaving the corpse, because she must be dead, of his mother.

He took a step forward, then another and another, before he was running, feet sliding on the red liquid staining the hardwood floor, and bringing the bat down on his fathers head, away from his sisters. His fathers skull gave way easier than expected exploding with black blood and chunks of gore and brain matter. Tiger heaved in air, staring at the bashed corpse of what used to be his father. The bat dripped with black liquid.

"W-What the fuck is going on!?" he hissed, eyes wide in shock. He could feel it, his heart rate picking up, blood surging with adrenaline.

No one answered. Tiger looked behind him, only to stumble backwards as his two sister stumbled towards him, arms reaching to claw at his skin. Their eyes were dull, a milky film over them. The moans left their mouths, piercing Tiger to his very core. _They were going to rip him apart and eat him._

He knew it sounded irrational. But he'd just bashed his fathers head in, because he's been _eating _his mother. Tiger knew it. He knew his sisters were gone. It was their eyes that told him. They were like glass, dull and ugly. Bloodshot, and it looked like a screen covered them.

"I'm sorry." he said, knowing it was pointless to apologize to the body of his sisters. Because the body never mattered. It was the soul, but this creature obviously didn't have one. It's eyes were empty.

So he killed them. Destroyed them all. And when his mother and other 3 siblings stumbled awake, maws open to devour him and his living flesh, he killed them too.

The news had spoken of an infection, of some outbreak. Tiger hadn't believed it, it was something from fiction, it's couldn't possible be real.

But it was.

He had to get out of here, had to get away, away from the blood, the gore, his...his family. He cried that night. For the first time in a while. He's failed them. Tiger had treasured his siblings, and remembered the words his oldest brother had told him before going off to the army, never to return.

"_If anything happens to me, remember this, you have to be the big brother!"_

Big brother his ass. He killed them. He failed them, didn't wake up in time to save them, to protect them. He'd failed the last promise he'd made to his older brother. Failed his duty as the older sibling.

* * *

So should I continue? Cuz, IDK...this was just a spur of the moment thing...


	2. Spitz

Warnings: Contains OC's, death, gore, horror, sexual implications, slash, guy/guy, and slight AU's because the storyline might change at moments because of OC's. Also, sorry if you don't understand some northern speech XD

Also, I'm writing Tiger's dialogue how he sounds, so it might not be grammatically correct.

* * *

He couldn't bury the bodies. Partially because it would take far to long and he had to leave, and partially because he was terrified. Utterly scared out of his wits. Scared he would walk around a corner and another one of those things would be there, reaching for him with decaying, pale hands. Tiger had never been more scared in his life to be in his house, to go in his yard, to even think about leaving the room.

But he had to. Gently, he dragged the bodies of his family away from the blood soaked davenport, his breathing become labored as his eyes burned. By the time he lined them all up he was whimpering and wiping his eyes, trying to stop the burn of tears attempting to spill past his eyelids. Breathing deeply, he gave his family a weary, broken look before slowly making his way to the kitchen. He knew it was irrational, he would have heard it by now if something was there. But he still feared. Feared turning that corner and seeing a face right before his own.

Swallowing, his entire frame tense, Tiger turned the corner and entered the kitchen. Empty. No monster/zombie thing. He still moved around with caution, trying to keeping going, he couldn't stop, couldn't think. He had to move. Motivation may not have ever been his strong point but it was going to have to be now. Reaching the sink, Tiger turned on the spicket and wet his hands, using them to scrub at the drops of blood on his face.

Keep moving. He knew if he stopped even for a moment it would all fall. He narrowed his eyes and let out a shaky breath, emotions sliding off his face. There was a new glint in his eye. One only received in the face of death. Tiger had killed. And he had to live with it. Drying his now more steady hands, he pivoted on his feet and silently opened the knife drawer. He pulled out a cleaver, and some sturdier looking knives. In his mind set, it was silly. Preparing for something like the zombie apocalypse. Him and his friends had always joked about how they would easily survive, find each other and it would be easy. This wasn't easy. How has they never thought about it? Thought about actually killing, the blood, the screams...the sheer terror freezing your spine?

Tiger gripped the knives in his hands, tiptoeing back into the living room, his green-blue eyes scanned over the bodies of his family. He couldn't help the goosebumps that popped up on his pale skin as he gazed at the bloody mess.

He closed his mind. Stop thinking. Stop remembering. He couldn't, it would hurt to much. They weren't coming back. He walked into his room, closing the door carefully behind him, the not so irrational fear that something might surprise him in the hallway still present. Without much care Tiger tossed the knives onto his bed. Stiffly, the black haired young adult opened his closet, pulling out the overnight bag smushed somewhere in the corner of it. With shaky hands he dropped it on his bed, head turning from side to side as he vaguely took in the items occupying his room. What should he take...

He needed weapons. He glanced at the knives. They weren't enough.

Tiger opened his dresser, movements becoming quicker, the fog finally lifting. Kunai.

There was another thing that separated Tiger from others his age. He had an obsession with weapons. Since he was 12 he'd taken Ninjustu at an old dojo, learning skills used in ancient japan. They wouldn't be any use now, defense didn't kill people, breaking limbs and striking pressure points didn't work on walking dead. But the dojo also taught weaponry. Granted, it was more uncommon weaponry, but that didn't matter, it got the job done. He strapped his Kunai pouch to his belt, adding a couple shuriken to it. His bo-staff leaned against the wall right besides him, and he stared at it uncertainly. It would be great for smashing heads in, but at a slight distance. He'd be screwed trying to attack if a zombie got in his personal space. There wouldn't be a good way to just drop it and grab a kunai with that thing. He felt saddened, he really liked that bo-staff, but he had to think rationally. Green eyes glanced to the assortment of Katana on his wall. 5 to be exact. They would work well, but had some set backs similar to the bo-staff, and they weren't exactly sharpened to the height of cleaving heads off. Thinking over in his head, he reached his belt, it had some pouched and notches for holding knives. He'd never actually used it before, he'd worn it a couple times, but never expected to use it seriously. He put a knife from the kitchen in one of the knife notches, filling the other 3 notches with different shaped kunai knives. He strapped his thigh, over his plain black sweatpants. He glanced briefly at the green T-Shirt he was wearing, wondering if he shoulder wear something warmer. In the end he settled for a gray and black checkered jacket, just in case.

Tossing some T-shirts and longsleeves into his bag, he ripped open another drawer, also putting in shorts and jeans. Socks. Underwear. His mind raced. Was he forgetting anything? A bracelet caught his eye, sitting on his nightstand. It was white, one of those rubbery arm band ones, with the word Brothers on it in bold black letters. Turning it in his hands revealed the japanese symbols for brothers also. Tiger slipped it on his wrist. It had been a gift.

Swallowing another lump in his throat, he swiped a black baseball cap with 'Ace' surrounded by flames sprayed on. He was ready.

On the way to his door he picked up a short staff, it would come in handy, it wasn't as long or as massive as a normal bo-staff, but it would work a lot better. Tiger swung the bag over his shoulder, before opening the door carefully, looking every-which way before stepping out into the hallway and opening the door to one of his brothers rooms. He ignored everything, trying not to let his eyes linger on anything, only grabbing the other overnight bag and all but running out of the empty room. It didn't feel right in there.

Holding his staff in one hand and the bag in the other he crept to the kitchen, eyes still flashing over to the unmoving bodies. He didn't trust that one would suddenly spring to life again and attack.

Making it back to the kitchen, he filled the second overnight bag with all the canned food he could find in the pantry, only packing a few perishable items. He made sure to pack water bottles, even though he wrinkled his nose at the thought. He never liked water, only if it was flavored. But now he didn't have time to be picky, shoving canned beans in after, which just yesterday would have made him gag.

Once done, he threw both bags over his shoulders, grunting lightly, a gripped the short staff in his hand. With a determined look on his pale face, he made his way back out to the living room, stepping toward the front door. Keys heavy in his sweat-pants pocket. At the foyer he slipped on his dark green sneakers, green eyes constantly flicking up to look around him. He'd never felt so scared within his own house.

The 19 year old held out his hand. It inched towards the doorknob. His chest rose and fell a little faster, breath sharp, pulse racing. He didn't really want to know what was on the other side.

It was 9 in the morning when Tiger left his house. The streets were chaos. Fire. Screams. People running. He couldn't entirely remember what happened. He'd run to his and slammed the door so fast he'd smacked his hip on the door. Ignoring the pulsing ache in his side, he'd locked the doors, shoving the bags into the second seat. Just as he was putting the keys into the ignition, hands thumping against the window made him jump three feet in the air and scream. He was only mortified at the unmanly scream for a second, once he saw what was pounding furiously at his window. His neighbor, hair askew and teeth gnashing, with blood pouring from her side. Terrified, he jammed the keys in and reversed, the walking corpse of his neighbor stumbling and crashing to the pavement as he drove into the street.

Slamming on the gas, he shook as he maneuvered through the chaotic streets.

* * *

Cars jammed the highways in and out of Boston, once Tiger saw the huge mess he drove off the other way. His car slipped into the suburbs, driving past corpses and streets splashed with blood. This was obviously much worse then the reporters and broadcasters had said. This was people dying, screaming, in pain. There was so much blood, so much noise and so much fear. The government was insane if they thought they could control this, if they thought they _had _control of this. Obviously no amount of preparation would be like the real thing, especially something like this, such an unreal situation. Tiger wasn't sure if he was actually awake.

Was he dreaming?

No. The steering wheel under his fingers felt to real, the blood that had splashed on his face from his family was to warm, sticky, wet. This was happening...

What was he supposed to do? There was no where to go, no where to hide...

His green-blue eyes dulled, the severity of his situating hitting him harder. He was probably going to die.

But he didn't want to...He flinched when the body of someone squished and squelched beneath the tires of his car, pressing on, even though he felt sick to his stomach.

He had to get out of here.

* * *

He'd been driving for about 2 days, in that time he'd pulled over to gas stations twice, hurrying in and out, as fast as he could. Signs were left around, saying things about good luck and God. He'd killed quite a few more of the zombies, having a close call only once, which left him even more shaken then before. It was scary, it really was, especially alone, he was scared to sleep, scared to make noise, just scared. To add to that, it seemed that within that short period of time things had calmed down, it was eerie. Something wasn't right.

He hadn't come into contact with anyone until the third day. Early in the morning, he was driving past the small town of Rice, Virginia. He found the name quite amusing, a small smile briefly cracking on his tired face. Tiger wasn't sure why he decided to drive south, his original plan had been to go out to Canada, because it was wide and snowy, you'd be able to spot something miles away. He also loved the cold, hated the heat. So why was he driving this way?

He was hoping to get to the border, travel on a boat or something and find an island. There were tons of little islands near the border. Certainly he'd be able to find somewhere safe. So lost in his thoughts, he was startled when he saw movement that wasn't the routine shuffling of a corpse.

A small body was weaving through some of the totaled cars, dodging the grasping hands of stray zombies as they reached for his living flesh. Tiger froze, his foot leaving the pedal. The car rolled to a stop, and he watched as the person avoided another stumbling corpse.

He was alive. There was someone alive! Tiger grabbed the short bo-staff, shoving his keys in his pocket as he removed them from the ignition. Checking out the window, he made sure no walkers were close to his car before opening the door. Closing it carefully behind him, he sprinted towards the figure, who was fast approaching. The person looked up and stumbled when he saw Tiger, surprised to see an actually person, and tripped, sprawling to the ground.

Tiger hissed through his clenched teeth, fists pumping faster as he forced himself to speed up. Raising the staff above his head, he brought it straight down on a Zombie's head, cracking in open and forcing the mutilated corpse to fall to the ground. Swinging it around sharply to his left, he smacked another so hard across the face it broke through the side of it's already semi-rotting face, caving in and spewing brain matter onto the asphalt. He crouched down and tugged the living person up, dragging them backwards.

"Let's go!" he shouted, running with the kid in a tight grip, because the person he rescued could only be a kid. Dragging the boy up to his car, he opened it and shoved him the the back seat, along with his bo-staff, turning around just in time to see a biter reach for him. Flinching sharply and the horrid image, he ripped a knife from his belt and stabbed it through the eye socket, feeling the bone and cartilage give beneath his hands. Instantly, he reached a hand behind him and all but ripped the driver door open, vaulting himself in and slamming it shut, locking the doors.

His hands fumbled with the keys as a stray walker thumped against a window.

"...T-thank you..." a small voice said as Tiger finally stuck the keys in the ignition correctly. Tiger jammed the gas pedal, the car speeding away.

"You'a welcome." Tiger nodded, letting out a shaky breath. "What's ya name kid?" his green eyes glancing in the rear-view mirror.

The boy was pretty young, a couple years younger then Tiger, with brownish hair and dark blue eyes. His hair was slightly shaggy, hanging around his ears, and his choppy bangs hung just above his eyes, as though attempting to hide his face.

"J-Jack Spitz." he replied, twiddling his fingers. "Y-You're from Boston?"

"Yep, the name's Tigah Ahson." he replied, "Guess it was obvious eh?"

"..yes...Tigah?" Jack tilted his head slightly, poorly imitating Tiger's accent. Tiger chuckled, eyes meeting Jack's in the mirror.

"Nawh, like the animal, ya know? The keyat."

Jack furrowed his brows, thinking for a moment what key-at might mean before it clicked. "Oh! The cat! Tiger. Tiger Arson!" he said, seeming slightly proud of himself.

"Yeauh!" Tiger nodded, a smile on his face. "How old ah ya, Jack?"

Jack flushed slightly, twiddling his fingers again. The younger found it amusing how Tiger pronounced his name. Je-yack. He cracked a smile.

"14..."

"Ah, ya young. Ah'm 19." Tiger nodded, his eyes scanning the road. "Oh, by the wey, ya haht at all?"

"No." Jack shook his head, fidgeting. "I'm just glad you rescued me, thank you..."

"Nah, it's nothing, just glad you'a alright. Was suhprised to see anotha pahson." Tiger flicked his green eyes back over to the mirror. "If you'a hungry you can have some food, it's awll in the second bayug."

Jack looked surprised that a total stranger would offer him food, after saving his life. He look at the bag uncertainly.

"Ahw, just get at it." Tiger huffed, feeling more at ease now that he wasn't alone. His fear had definitely receded. Jack's hunger gave in and final he unzipped the bag.

"Try to eat the perishable stuff fuhst." Tiger advise, smiling lightly at the amazed expression on the teens face.

"Thank you.." Jack said again.

"Awh, fahget it." Tiger shrugged it off, smirking. "You'a suhvivah, just like me, gotta stick togethah." Jack nodded dazedly, laughing childishly at Tiger's accent once again. "You from around heah?" Tiger asked suddenly, wondering if the boy had somewhere to be, other's to get back to.

"No, I'm from Richmond, I'm not entirely sure how I managed to travel all the way to Rice, but..." Jack turned his dark blue eyes down, a grieving expression on his face. "I'm alone..."

Tiger's mouth was set in a thin line, he didn't pry. He was sure the boy was having trouble dealing with his grief, and Tiger was no head doctor. "Yeauh, me too." he sighed, scratching his head with one hand, keeping the other firmly on the wheel. "You should stick with me, kid." he murmured, accent extending some vowels. "We'ah alone togethah." he said, throwing the younger boy a grin. Jack returned it weakly, nodded ever so slightly.

Shy kid.


End file.
